


Uncomfortable Being Dishonest

by thesirensong



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Gen, Mentions of Patton - Freeform, Violence, he throws scissors at a wall, idk if this needs anymore tags, implied ambiguous ending, like if it got continued it could go either way, mentions of logan, mentions virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesirensong/pseuds/thesirensong
Summary: Roman's made some mistakes.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Uncomfortable Being Dishonest

**Author's Note:**

> I was vibing to Lies by Will Jay and I started paying attention to the lyrics and it gave me Roman angst vibes so. Here we are.

It had started out as a joke.

_ “Are you even you anymore?” _

He hadn’t meant to take it this far.

_ “I think I need a break from… this, Roman. I’m getting uncomfortable with all of the lying.” _

There were so many things he should have done before he let it get this bad.

_ “You know what? Fine! If you want to continue being foolish, pretending to be a part of a group who would want nothing to do with you otherwise, then by all means destroy what you have with the friends who originally supported you. Don’t expect me to be sympathetic when you figuratively crash and burn.” _

Sure, Roman still technically had friends, but they didn’t even know who he was behind all of the lies.

_ Did he even know anymore? _

Roman was dramatic and loud and extra. Right? No, of course he was. Even with Virgil, Patton, and Logan, he’d been dramatic and loud. He would drape across a couch dramatically to complain about his writing woes, or he’d wax poetic about Patton’s smile and bicker with Logan goodnaturedly.

But he didn’t use to make fun of others like that. Maybe? Roman had always been in the habit of coming up with nicknames. He’d just… turned up the mean when he started this. Started using words he never used before because he was a coward.

_ Because he’d been respectful. _

It’s not like Roman didn’t know his friends- his fake-friends were toxic. He’d joined the group as a joke. That the assholes could have their world turned on them too.

_ He should’ve listened to his  _ real  _ friends. _

Roman frowned at his ceiling, pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed.

Tomorrow. He’d leave the whole group and go back to his old friends tomorrow. There was nothing he could do about it now, it was three in the morning.

_ Would they even take him back? _

_ That’s what he’d said for the last several months. _

God he hated this. Shouldn’t have even suggested the idea or gone on with it even with the hesitance from his friends. Every time he told a joke at someone’s expense, or forced a laugh at something bigoted, he felt an intense discomfort go through him.

Once he got out of this, he’d be fine.

_ Would he though? The others probably hated him. _

Roman shot up in his bed, grabbed the scissors he kept on his desk next to the bed, and flung them at the wall on the other side of the room.

They stuck into the plaster, and Roman finally noticed the tears on his cheeks. He was breathing heavily, glaring at the scissors.

This was his own fault. It’d be understandable if the others hated him. He had fucked up his friendship with all of them.

Suddenly losing all of his energy, Roman collapsed back onto his bed and continued staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow.

He’d deal with it tomorrow.


End file.
